Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Netherlands and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing David Axelrod to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
U.S. Maple,
Crime,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobby Womack,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeru the Damaja,
Young Marble Giants,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
Lucky Dragons,
The Smoke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eve St. Jones,
Joyce Sims,
Magma,
Gang of Four,
Lou Christie,
Chris Corsano,
Bluetip,
Japan,
Agitation Free,
Sam Rivers,
The Dead C,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gladiators,
Nirvana,
Clear Light,
Pagans,
Roger Hodgson,
Q and Not U,
Lower 48,
The Star Department,
Jacob Miller,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flipper,
Duran Duran,
KRS-One,
Byron Stingily,
The Tremeloes,
Ultra Naté,
The Fuzztones,
Vladislav Delay,
Scientists,
Eli Mardock,
The Mummies,
Metal Thangz,
Reuben Wilson,
Johnny Clarke,
Cal Tjader,
New York Dolls,
Black Bananas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eddi Front,
Sonic Youth,
Sight & Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Skaos,
Cameo,
The Knickerbockers,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.